"I was going to suggest you take my car, because—"
Conan shook his head. He looked very sad. "If I know how my people work, I expect there will be a car brought to me in the next hour, a car that Tom won't identify. And just tell Tom I have a cough and decided not to work because I might be contagious. The only thing I want to know . . ." He paused.
"Yes?"
"Is what they intend to use me as, other than possibly bait. It's not that I mind. It can't be much worse than all the other things I've had to do. I just wish I had more of an inkling of what will happen than 'Conan will watch, and then we'll intervene.' " He looked very tired. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure better minds than mine will handle it."
Kyrie was caught between a desire to bitch-slap him and a desire to free him from his vassalage.